


Secrets Out

by Muykke



Series: Taking Chances [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles is 17, Underage Sex, allison is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 13:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muykke/pseuds/Muykke
Summary: Stiles and Derek continue their relationship. They spend a lot of time together being all lovey dovey and screwing like bunnies. But when they decide to tell everyone, not everything goes according to plan.This part is all about telling each other secrets (as stated).





	Secrets Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I finally finished the 4th part of the series. Hope you'll like it. There are also other pairings, but they don't add much to the plot, so I didn't tag them, oops :)
> 
> There will be at least one more part so stay tuned.
> 
> I also thank my dedicated beta Unne for editing and moral support.

"Faster... Fas...Agh That's it. Yesss Aaah.. Oh, oh, gggod, omygod, Derek, yes, yes."

Stiles took Derek's idea about spontaneous sex with eagerness. And didn't regret it. Now his back was pressed to a cold stone wall of Derek's loft, hands clasping a pipe over his head. Derek propped him under his thighs and plowed into him like it was their last day on Earth. Stiles crossed his legs behind Derek's back and gave almost all his weight into Derek's arms. His wolf is so strong.  
Only five minutes ago Stiles stepped into the loft and now Derek was pushing him into the wall with every thrust. Moments like this make every relationship stronger. Also moments like last Friday and every Friday for the past several weeks. Someone's Fridays were getting better and better.

"Oh, yes! Der, yes, like that... Oh god, ohhh... Fuck me, fuck me... Oh, fuck! That's good."

Derek licked Stiles' hot chest and neck, biting him gently here and there, giving out a small groan each time his hard cock slammed into Stiles' body. He was close. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and dug his nails into his back, not caring if he'd leave marks. He was about to come any second too. His skin seemed to be burning from the inside, all the senses centered to his throbbing dick and tightening balls. He clasped at Derek's neck with one hand to lift himself up a little, and jerked himself off with the other. In a few moments, he came with a loud cry, right as Derek's body shook with deep waves of orgasm too. The werewolf's fingers squeezed Stiles' butt-cheeks so hard, he'd likely have bruises tomorrow. Hand-shaped bruises on his ass. That would be awesome. He would eye them in the mirror and get a hard-on from the sheer memory of how they appeared there.

They stood for a couple of minutes, panting wearily into each others' necks, savoring the aftertaste.  
When they finally headed to the shower, Stiles heard Derek gasp behind him.

"Stiles, your back! Why didn't you tell me that it hurt?" Derek asked with concern.

Stiles twisted his head hopelessly trying to look over his shoulder. There was a subtle burning feeling that seemed to be growing every second.

"Erm... Grazed probably. I didn't notice. Adrenaline rush I guess."

"I always forget how fragile you are. Sorry."

"What are you talking about? I didn't notice, relax. Just a few scratches. It'll heal. Not as fast as my marks on you, but it's ok." He made Derek turn just to catch the last tracks of fading nail marks on his back.

Derek kissed him on the temple and hugged him tightly cautiously avoiding raw marks on his skin. He held him like a piece of treasure. His little human. The source of happiness and calm.

Stiles picked his discarded clothes off the floor where he'd left them and put into a plastic bag, thoughtfully placed by the door. It became a routine now. Hiding their scent so all the nosy werewolves wouldn't suspect anything. Now every time Stiles crossed the threshold of Derek's loft, he undressed immediately and sealed his clothes into a plastic bag. Derek bought him two sets of "Friday night" clothes. First one was black pajamas with Batman sign on the chest and a hood with "ears". Stiles insisted on buying a pair of Superman underwear for Derek and made him wear it to match his outfit. The second one was plushy yellow pajamas with blue and pink puppies printed all over it. God knows where Derek had got it, but they both found it hilarious. Stiles also made Derek buy fluffy dog slippers for himself to match the PJ's.

All the "Friday night" clothes were washed and steamed immediately after Stiles left. Derek threw away the sheets after every time, condemning them "unwashable". He also started to pay extra to his cleaning lady so she would clean up ten times more scrupulous to wipe out every scent mark. Surgeries could be conducted on every surface of the loft. And the pack members eyed the place suspiciously while visiting: the only reason why the loft needed to be cleaned so meticulously was if someone got brutally murdered there. Not that it had never happened, but not every week, thank god! And not unknown to the pack. Something was going on there they suspected, but asking Derek "Why is your place so pristine all of a sudden?" seemed too invasive. After all, Derek was a known neat-freak. Why not assume that his obsession had reached a new level?

***

They talked a lot. About anything and everything. Stiles had never thought it would be possible — to just talk casually with Derek, but apparently, he didn't give him enough credit. Once comfortable Derek could be rather talkative and eager to explain things to quench Stiles' endless stream of curiosity.

"What does fear smell like to you?" Stiles asked.

They were resting on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Stiles put his head on Derek's belly and was enjoying the subtle ups and downs as Derek breathed.

"It's hard to describe," Derek said. "I believe there's no similar smell you could compare it to. It's primal. No one ever tells you what fear smells like. Same with other emotions and feelings. You just know: this person is scared. Or happy. Or sad. "

"Or aroused."

"Right."

"Can you get scared by smelling someone else's fear?"

"Depends. If the situation is dangerous fear can be contagious, but you subdue it. And answering your real question: yes, a werewolf can get aroused by smelling someone else's arousal."

"Oh..." Stiles turned to Derek lifting himself a bit. He looked joyful.

"Score for the mind-reading."

"Thanks. But only if the werewolf likes this someone." Derek winked.

Stiles gasped.

"Oh! So, that night I sort of enticed you with my scent?"

"Saw this coming too. Walked right into it." Derek whispered more to himself.

"You liked me!"

Stiles jumped up on the bed looking like a happy fox. If he had a tail, it would be wiggling like a fan.

Derek enjoyed the view of this wiggly smitten Stiles.

"Apparently so." He answered. "But I never realized it till that moment. To be precise, I figured it out much later. That night in your room I acted on that primal instinct, I wasn't thinking."

"No, you liked me!" Stiles chirped. "Primal-shrimal, who cares! Are you still beating yourself up about that night? You're impossible! What do I smell like to you right now? "

Instead of answering Derek pulled the boy's face closer and kissed him, slowly and tenderly. As Stiles melted on his chest Derek asked:

"Was that your intricate way of making me kiss you?"

Stiles grinned.

"Not my first intention. But I liked how things developed. That's interesting, how much you really know just by benefits of being a supernatural creature. How do you live with all this? You probably hear a million more sounds than we humans do. Doesn't it get on your nerves?"

"You hear several times better than lots of species, does it get on yours?"

"Haha, I got it. I'm used to it and don't pay attention to most of the noises."

Derek just lifted his eyebrow.

"Scott was quite edgy after turning because of all this enhanced healing but he adjusted quickly."

"Scott wasn't born with it."

If only evenings were a little longer...

They migrated on a couch to watch some TV, exhausted but unwilling to sleep as they had little time before Stiles' curfew and all the time in the world to sleep separately afterward. Stiles leaned on Derek's chest stretching his legs on a coffee table and Derek wrapped his legs around him. Stiles was wearing his plushy PJ's, so holding him was like holding a human size stuffed toy. Derek felt really cozy and calm, hugging Stiles, breathing in the scent of his hair.

"I don't like that we're hiding. Like we're doing something wrong." He said.

"We kinda are." Stiles replied without turning. "Technically I'm legal only in two months so it is a little wrong. Although in quantities we do it, it's a LOT wrong, pllllenty."

"To be honest, not much changes after you turn 18. It's just a number."

Stiles didn't dare ask: "Not much changes between us or in general?"

Instead, he said nonchalantly:

"Does it mean I shouldn't be expecting any cool presents from you on my birthday?"

"It means that we should tell everyone that we're... What are we?"

Stiles freed himself from Derek's arms and legs and sat on the floor facing him. He was getting uneasy and excited at the same time.

"Two people, who very much enjoy having a hot mind-blowing sex every Friday night?" He smiled archly. "I've told you that you're very cute when you blush to the tips of your ears, but I will repeat it every time."

Derek smiled sheepishly.

"You wanna talk about it now?" Stiles asked, turning excited and bouncy again.

"Yes. Let's."

Stiles went on chirping.

"Are we a couple? It's a social term. People who do social stuff together. Sexting, Netflix and secret meals don't seem very social. But if we go public can we go somewhere together? Like the movies? Or a beach? Can we do that? Will you come to see my game?"

"Sure, why not. I'd like that."

"Really?" Stiles stood up abruptly. He was suddenly overwhelmed by emotions. Everything was becoming real.

"Why are you so surprised? You suggested it. Don't you want us to be seen together?" Derek asked lifting his eyebrows.

Stiles sat down again. Derek admired his liveliness. When Stiles was enthralled by emotions he turned into a chaos of elevated heartbeat and high breath, trembling eyelids, and hot skin, hands everywhere— He was so adorable, Derek couldn't take his eyes off of him.

"No, I just got used to it being our secret. I've never been in a relationship with someone I— I liked so much. And I've never had sex with anyone. And it still seems a little like a fantasy come true. Like we're in this bubble that protects us, and nothing from the outside can reach us. So what if— If we tell everyone it becomes real, and what if something happens?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything. Stuff. Some crap always happens in the outside world. And what if we're not able to handle it?"

Derek sat up straight.

"Look. I can only say for myself. I want to be with you. I like you and I feel happy when we're together. I wouldn't let anything break us apart as long as you want me by your side. Is that enough guarantee for you?"

Stiles gaped at him looking for the right words.

"Yes. Happy. I'm happy too— We're both happy then. With each other. And I'm so happy about it, and, I—"

Derek saved him from some more of embarrassed babbling with a kiss.

"So let's tell everyone. At the next pack meeting." Derek said then.

***

Out of all seven days, Mondays were definitely the worst. And this Monday was particularly bad because Stiles woke up with a sharp feeling that he really missed Derek. The whole week to go without him, if nothing extraordinary happens, was too much to bear.  
Not only did Stiles miss the sex, but he also really enjoyed their talks and bonding that became a new and interesting development of their relationship. Having to wait for the whole week, knowing that Derek is there all by himself, was rather cruel and seemed like a huge waste of time and opportunities. At the moment it appeared that his body was craving some carnal pleasure. A boner Stiles currently had under the blanket sustained it. For some reason he'd woken up way before the alarm clock, all the better to deal with it.  
He kicked his pajama pants off and started stroking himself, projecting a memory of their last Naked Friday. At school when one of the guys appeared with a hickie on the neck others teased him about it and made lewd comments. Stiles got the combo. Things had gotten pretty steamy right away and as a result, he now had some marks on his back and a chain of round reddish hickies on his chest not to mention two symmetrical hand shaped bruises on his butt. Doesn't matter that they were below the collar and no one could see them. He still wore them with pride like a token of affection from his werewolf lover.

Stiles kept stroking himself, picturing various scenes. Derek pressing him to the wall, taking him from behind, going down on him, biting him, kissing him, panting, moaning with pleasure. However good it felt, the real thing was times better.

He opened his eyes and gave out an exasperated breath. Forty minutes till the alarm goes off. No point of sleeping. Self-pleasuring wasn't as satisfactory as it used to be before he had discovered the real sex. It was all Derek's fault, he thought. Derek with his magic dick, and fit body, and stubble that grazed Stiles everywhere, and his fangs, and growl, and red eyes, his tongue, and lips. Oh, dear god!

He reached for his phone and typed a text.

6:30 AM: 1 new text message from: Stiles

>>Watcha doin?

<<Running with the pack. What's up?

>>Run to my place. Alone. NOW

<<U OK?

>>NOW

In ten minutes Derek climbed through Stiles' window. He looked alert and was panting from his run. Stiles appreciated the speed.

"What on earth happened?!" Derek snarled. Everything seemed perfectly fine.

"This." Stiles gestured to his boner that was tenting his blanket.

Derek looked unimpressed.

"You made me run all the way across town because of your morning wood?! I thought you were being murdered!"

"First of all, tone it down, my dad is sleeping."

"Your DAD is here?!" Derek managed to shout even while whispering.

"Second of all, I missed you." Stiles made a seductive face.

"Stiles!"

Stiles smiled sheepishly, not even a little sorry.

"I _really_ missed you?"

"I'm leaving." Derek breathed out.

Stiles leaped from under the blanket and the next second he was on his knees in front of Derek, smiling slyly.

"If you're not interested— although a protein cocktail is really good after a run— _I_ wouldn't mind one. Since you're here."

Stiles tugged on the hem of Derek's track pants, but Derek stopped his hand. He wasn't made of stone after all; when your gorgeous boy appears in front of you half-naked from the waist down, with a huge boner, how can you deny him a blowjob?

Derek made Stiles rise on his feet, turned him around and smacked him playfully on his naked ass cheek. It reddened a little, accentuating a fading purplish hand-shaped bruise he'd accidentally left last Friday. Stiles was weirdly excited about it then, kept showing his ass off in front of the mirror, giggling for like half an hour.

"One blow job. Then you go to school like a good boy that you are."

"You know that's not true," Stiles said cheekily, trotting to his bed.

"Yeah, you're far from good, that's for sure." Derek smacked the other butt cheek. Stiles giggled.

Bad boy with a gorgeous cock but awful ideas — that's who his Stiles was, Derek thought as the boy moaned again, failing (or forgetting) to quiet himself. Doing a blowjob while listening if the Sheriff heard them downstairs was not an easy task. And Stiles seemed to forget that they were not at Derek's loft where he could moan and cry at the top of his lungs (and he did) and no one would hear.

"Bite on a pillow!" Derek snatched Stiles' pillow from under his head and put it over his face. Stiles was about to protest but Derek cupped his balls and lowered his mouth on his dick again, so Stiles had to take Derek's advice, and sunk his teeth into the pillow.

Derek was getting good at giving head. Not only he enjoyed the very process but the way Stiles reacted with all his body turning into a havoc mess: he arched his back, twisted and moaned, grabbed on everything (something should be done with the hair pulling though, or Derek risked to get bald prematurely), he jerked his legs and curled his toes — all that while Derek pinned him down in one spot, playing him like an instrument with his mouth and hands.

There was a tiny problem this time. They weren't at the spacious loft with its' huge bed and nothing but sheets and Derek within the reach of Stiles' grabby hands. In Stiles' room, everything was on the way. So when Stiles pulled on Derek's hair especially hard (a sign of him being close to the orgasm), Derek detached his hand off as usual, and he couldn't have predicted what happened next.

When Stiles hung the wooden pinboard to the wall a couple months prior to the current events, he didn’t think he'd grab on it one day, while coming into Derek's mouth, and tear it off the wall with the nail it was hanging on, thus setting off a chain reaction. One can't predict everything, can he? The board landed on Derek's head with a loud woody sound.

Never scare a werewolf who has his mouth around your dick; that of course if you want to keep your genitals intact; Derek noted for himself. He stopped his fangs from dropping at the very last second. His well-trained body reacted at the sudden unknown danger instantly. He jerked up and sent the board into a brief flight across the room, right into the shelf, where all the Stiles' trophies sat peacefully. Well, until now.

The noise was deafening as if someone made a strike at a bowling alley. With a pin board. And metal pins.

"Motherf—" Stiles cursed twisting himself from under Derek, who'd gotten his legs caught in a sheet and clumsily fell off the bed with a thud.

Then there was a brief moment of silence when both guys froze hoping from the bottom of their hearts that Sheriff Stilinski had gone suddenly deaf or was sleeping really tight and there was a teeny tiny chance he couldn't hear all this horrendous noise.

"Stiles?" Sheriff shouted from downstairs. "What's going on there?"

Stiles desperately waved Derek to get up and get out through the window.

"Stiles?!"

"Oh my god, he's gonna come up here!" Stiles was on the verge of hysteria.

"Say everything's fine!" Derek whispered, still trying to unwrap his ankles.

"Huh?" Stiles lost all the sensible words.

"Tell him you've knocked something down!" He finally managed to get up and was now looking for his hoodie, he'd taken off sometime earlier.

"I'm fine, dad!" Stiles yelled. His sight caught Derek's sweatpants that were now tented by a huge hard-on he'd gotten while blowing Stiles. He hadn't had time to deal with it.

"Knocked down a boner— a board!" Stiles yelled and hit himself on the forehead with a heel of his hand.

"Everything's fine!" He added for good measure. He might have overdone it this time.

"What are you looking for?" Stiles asked nervously.

"My hoodie. I can't go out half naked!" He looked down and put a hand against his crotch. "Shit."

"Yeah, you probably shouldn't get close to the playgrounds. Or schools. Or streets at all. There's a rather lush bush of acacia under my window. Maybe you could hide off there?"

Derek growled, flashing eyes red.

Stiles stood up.

"Oh, here it is!" He said, handing Derek his hoodie. "I was sitting on it this whole time!" He smiled sheepishly.

Derek growled again.

"I'm so sorry! Please don't be mad!" He cupped Derek's face. "You're my wolf. My hero! You came to my rescue, and that's the most important thing." Stiles kissed him to seal an apology. "Now chop chop. Out."

Derek zipped up his hoodie, tugged on his pants to make everything inside hang more comfortably and climbed out of the window. From what Stiles heard he didn't land gracefully, but at least he found the acacia quickly.

Stiles didn't bother picking up the trophies, just pulled his pants on and whipped downstairs. His father was in the kitchen.

"You look flushed. Is everything okay?" John asked.

"Why? What not could be okay? I mean wha— What could not— Is everything okay with you? How'd you sleep, dad? Why do you ask?"

Sheriff eyed his son patiently and waved his hand.

"I see." He said tiredly. And then yelled:

"Derek Hale, get in there!"

Stiles choked on his breath and squeaked helplessly. For some reason, the Sheriff took his gun out and put it on the table.

"I promise I won't shoot you—" John yelled."—right away." He added in a low voice.

Ten panicked heartbeats later Stiles heard a knock on the door.

"Oh, come in already!" The Sheriff said.

The door opened slowly.

"Come in an tell me you treat my son well."

"Daaad!" Stiles cried out, but the Sheriff didn't seem to notice.

When Derek appeared in the kitchen, he did all his best trying not to look guilty but failed miserably. Acacia flowers in his hair and a torn pant leg didn't improve his image. Well, at least his dick had gone down, Stiles thought.

Derek threw a short glance at Stiles who froze by the kitchen counter.

"Well?" John pushed.

"Yes, sir," Derek said,

"Yes, sir what?"

"I treat him well, sir," Derek said. He could hardly utter a thing because, as it always happens in situations like this, his mind got flooded by every smutty moment they'd shared, in the past weeks and just now. His cheeks flushed red.

_You don't wanna know how well I'm treating your son. Every Friday night. And if only then. The teen's always horny. Not that I mind._

"I'm almost one hundred percent sure that you two are having sex," John said firmly.

Even the tips of Derek's ears had gone red. John looked at Stiles whose equally guilty face and the eyes of a rabbit in the headlights said it all.

"And you are well aware that Stiles is 17." The sheriff pointed at Derek with his index finger.

Derek was about to say something but John cut him off.

"If I get as much as a hint that you're hurting him, not treating him right— And believe me since I've found out about you two, it'd be quite easy for me to find out about it as well. So if you hurt Stiles in any way, I doubt, your werewolf abilities will help you grow these back." John's finger lowered to point at Derek’s crotch.

Stiles squeaked again and covered his mouth.

"Of course, sir." Derek nodded.

"All right." Sheriff said. "Now get out of my sight."

Derek looked at Stiles with concern. Stiles tried to tell him inaudibly to wait for him outside but wasn't sure if Derek understood him.

"And Derek!" Sheriff added as Derek was on his way out.

"Sir?" Derek turned around.

"Come for dinner this Saturday."

"I will, sir, thank you."

As Derek shut the door behind him softly, Stiles finally unfroze.

"Dad, how did you know?"

John turned to his son.

"Really, Stiles? This is your first question?" He asked tiredly.

"Well?"

"I am your father. And I can tell when my kid is head over hills with someone." Stiles made a face. "I am also the chief of the police, for God's sake. I know, I'd missed a lot of things happening in this town, but surprisingly I managed to investigate where my son disappears regularly every Friday night."

"You've been spying on me? That's scandalous!"

"Stiles, you're being friends with a pack of werewolves, you've been kidnapped, possessed by an evil spirit, almost died. So many people have been killed. And you are surprised that my men are looking after you?"

Stiles looked down and rubbed his eyes. It was hard to admit that in spite of all his bravado he really was grateful to be watched over.

"But—" He said hesitantly. "You are okay that Derek and I— That we—“

“I was a teenager too, you know." His dad said softly. "And believe it or not I see how happy you looked in the past weeks. When I got a report that you spend every Friday night at Derek's loft I put two and two together. Also, you overestimate your stealth abilities at times like this." Sheriff gestured up and Stiles flushed again.

"I know I have to be strict in matters like this but I think since you had to deal with all these supernatural things in this town, you are mature enough to be in a normal relationship with someone."

Stiles looked at his dad once again feeling really grateful for having a father like this.

"Derek's a good lad. And I can see that he cares about you a lot."

Stiles stepped in and gave John a strong hug. John patted him on the back.

"Now go get changed or you'll be late for school."

"Thanks, dad," Stiles said.

On his way upstairs he stopped and turned back.

"Dad?"

"Yes, son." Stiles smiled archly and wasn't that suspicious.

"Since you know about us, can I maybe have a sleepover at Derek's this Friday?" Stiles made one of his most innocent begging faces (he had several).

"Thank God I shouldn't worry about teenage pregnancy!" John thought and sighed tiredly.

***

The school was boring. Everyone was with someone. Scott with Allison, and Isaac always somewhere around them (what was his deal anyway?). Lydia with Jackson, still. Erica and Boyd all over each other. Kira being all super nice with a new girl, Maria or something. Technically Stiles was with someone too, just not at school, and not publicly. Well, that was about to change in just a few days. At least his Dad knew now. And not only he hadn't shot Derek, he'd approved of them. Of their relationship. This thought was keeping Stiles in the best mood.

He texted Derek "I miss you" and got a kissing emoji from him. Way to go. He's gonna kick some ass at today's lacrosse practice, he thought. One week before the game all the practices became extremely fierce and exhausting.

"Stilinski! You only have two legs! How hard is it not to stumble over one another, for Christ's sake?!" The Coach yelled.

Right as Stiles was about to give a pass, he got knocked down and suddenly found himself lying flat on his stomach, grass and mud in his face.

Coach's voice roared from above.

"LAHEY, ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?! He's on your team!

"Sorry, Coach!" Isaac yelled. "Sorry, man, I got distracted."

Stiles got turned over by someone.

"How many fingers?" The Coach asked, showing him three fingers.

Stiles spit out some grass.

"You're good. Get up!"

"Are you okay?" Scott helped him get up on his feet.

Stiles coughed.

"Yeah, just got the air knocked out of me and— Ouch! And an ankle twisted, I guess."

Stiles made several steps limping and Scott wrapped his arm around him for support.

"Coach, Stiles seems to be hurt. Can we go see the nurse?"

"Yeah, yeah," the Coach said. "Just be in shape for the game next week. We can't blow this one too."

As they walked across the field, pain in Stiles' leg subdued so he said:

"I think my ankle is much better now. Probably gonna need some ice, but it's nothing. I think I'd better hit the showers and then drive home."

"You sure?" Scott asked with concern.

"Positive, man. No worries."

"I'll walk you to the locker room. Just in case."

Stiles asked himself if Scott felt guilty since he ditched him for Allison in the past few weeks. Joke's on him though, he'd been having a great time.

"So how about we go see a movie this Friday?" Scott asked. He sat on a bench waiting for Stiles to finish his shower.

"Friday? This Friday?" Stiles asked hesitantly. "Don't you have any plans with Allison?"

"She wants to spend some time with Lydia. Girls' night. Why? You have other plans?"

Stiles paused. What to say so Scott wouldn't catch him lying? The pause was getting longer and Stiles couldn't come up with anything.

"Stiles?" Scott asked worriedly.

"Yes? Scott? You were saying— Friday, yeah? Not the night I would prefer." He cleared his throat. All the excuses seemed either too stupid or too see-through.

"Stiles are you okay? Your heartbeat—"

Scott stepped into the showers to check in on his friend.

"Stiles, what's this?" He exclaimed.

"Where?"

"There, your back is all scratched, and— lower."

"Are you staring at my ass, Scottie? Can't say I'm not flattered, but—"

"It looks like a handprint and a bruise—"

"Scott!"

"It is a bruise! Oh, god, what happened to you?"

"What does it look like?" Stiles turned the water off, wrapped a towel around his waist and quickly passed by Scott to his locker.

"Stiles, who did this?!" Scott followed him.

"Well, I've been meaning to tell you later, in a more appropriate situation. When I'm not in the shower maybe. But now that you've seen it, fine. It's Derek. Now you know." Stiles meant to sound brave and self-confident but instead got nervous for some reason. His rabbit-fast heartbeat wasn't of much help too. He turned away from Scott to take his clothes out of the locker.

"Stiles, oh my god! Does it hurt?"

Stiles blushed, still facing the locker. He recalled some steamy pictures of his recent pastime and smiled at himself. However, Scott couldn't see Stiles' happy face. He was too absorbed with studying the red and blue picture on his back.

"Not really." Stiles finally answered. "I've never thought it would be like this. I'm so glad we can talk about it now. It was kinda excruciating, keeping it a secret."

He finally got to pull his underwear and a t-shirt on, that covered all his marks. That seemed to distract Scott from the first shock.

"These are extreme." He said softly.

Stiles wanted to say something like "If only you could see the fresh bite mark on my inner thigh, but butt-bruises are enough for today."

But then Scott said, "We should report it." And Stiles choked on the air.

"What?!"

Only now he realized that Scott wasn't admiring the hickies and the bruises at all. Scott seemed very worried and— delusional? Because only someone crazy would ask: "Did he threaten you? Force you? Gone werewolf on you?"

Stiles' face must have betrayed him when Scott's question stirred up all the pleasant and very kinky memories of how exactly Derek went werewolf on him, and not once. Scott instantly misinterpreted it. Just like he did everything else. His eyes flashed gold.

"He did! Son of a bitch!"

"What?! No!"

Always so talkative, Stiles seemed to swallow all the sensible words at the moment and for the first time in his life failed to outspeak Scott, who continued his ridiculous assumptions.

"How long has it been going on?"

"Since before he left to see Cora." Stiles blabbed. He still couldn't believe that he had to defend and explain himself here and not brag as he'd expected he would.

"That was like ten weeks ago!" Scott shouted getting more and more agitated.

"Two and a half months. But wait, It's not what you're thinking, he didn't—"

"Goddamit, Stiles! Why didn't you say anything? It's my fault. I've been so busy with Allison and— Stiles? I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Stiles went on, glad that Scott finally stopped interrupting him. "It's not a big deal. Occupational hazard, so to speak. More important is that we are—"

"Occupational hazard?! Did he brainwash you?"

"Scott, listen to me, please. I'm seeing Derek. We're in a relationship."

"You have bruises, Stiles! Bite marks! It's not okay!"

"These are hickies! You should see the marks I leave on him! Only that he heals better. So unfair—"

"Gross."

"Scott, we're together, and I really really like him. And now I'm sharing the secret with you. Why can't you be happy for me?" Stiles pleaded.

"You didn't share anything and wasn't going to. I saw the bruises. Why would you hide something like that from me? I'm your best friend. Unless you're ashamed. Or afraid—"

"I've been meaning to tell you, I really did. But it seemed too personal. I wanted it to be just between Derek and me until I knew for sure that we're an item and not just "Naked Buddies on Fridays." Stiles grinned, but prematurely. Scott wasn't ready to joke about it yet. Not that Stiles didn't find his concern flattering, but it was a little over the top.

"So that's what you've been doing every Friday night? And was about to be doing this week? Oh, dear God!" Stiles wondered if he'd witness Scott tearing his own hair out in frustration. Had he always been such a drama queen?

"Scotty, Scotty, come on. It's Derek we're talking about. Under all this grumpiness and layers of stubble, he's very sweet and gentle, and we like each other so much! Please believe me."

"I've read about this thing when victims defend their abusers because their relationship forms some kind of connection. A Stockholm syndrome!"

_When had I lost you, Scotty?_

Stiles spoke slowly, phrasing carefully. He might as well be talking to a stubborn child.

"That's not it, Scott. I'm not a victim. He did not force me. It just happened one day and then turned into something more. And now I'm so happy. And he likes me back. I couldn't believe it at first either. But I'm telling you repeatedly, you got it all wrong! Why is it so hard for you to comprehend? It's not just Allison and you that deserve happiness, you know. A dorky sidekick can get some too."

"I'm still gonna face him." Scott picked up his backpack and was on his way out. He stopped abruptly at the noise from outside door.

"No! Why?" Stiles followed him, not giving a damn that he still was in this underwear and barefoot. Some things are more important than clothes. When your werewolf friend goes off his rockers and is out to declare a duel to your werewolf boyfriend for example. That beats dignity and self-respect ten out of ten.

He caught Scott at the door.

"What are you gonna tell him? Are you going to fight? Over me? That's so unfair. He didn't do anything! Can I watch?"

"Greenberg, have you been raised by wolves? Eavesdropping on your captain and his boyfriend is not cool." The door threw open showing Coach Finstock and the whole team behind it. Jackson was grinning. Isaac was looking at Scott sheepishly. Perhaps their argument had gotten a little too loud.

"The hell's going on here?" Coach Finstock bellowed. "McCall, Stilinski, can you maybe take your high school gay drama someplace else so the rest of the team can change, thank-you-very-much!"

***

3:30 PM: 8 new text message from: Stiles

>>Scott saw the marks from friday! thinks u forced me or smth

>>went totally crazy, I failed 2 explain

>>he's looking for you, wants 2 duel u or smth

>>u there?

>>u ok?

>>u mad???

>>Derek, PLEASE REPLY. I'M GOING CRAZY HERE

>>T_T T_T T_T

4 missed calls from: Stiles

4 PM: 1 new text message from: Sourwolf

<<Stiles I'm fine. We're fine. I'm gone for a couple of days with Peter. Business. Don't worry about Scott. See you Friday. XOXO

Sending a text message to ALL:

<<PACK MEETING FRIDAY 7 PM. LOFT.

***

Scott stood in the middle of his bedroom as Allison was getting ready to sleep. For the past hours, he'd been trying to cope with the news. Unsuccessfully. He was about to talk to Derek, man to man, or more likely werewolf to werewolf. But the bastard couldn't be found anywhere. Allison also wasn't much of a help: to his surprise, she didn't take the news with the seriousness Scott thought they deserved.

"Can you believe it? Stiles and Derek! Having a secret affair for ten weeks!"

"I couldn't believe it first three times you told me today. And it's two and a half months." Allison sounded overly casual. "Help me with the zipper."

"What?"

"When you say 'ten weeks' it just makes it sound longer."

"Not helping!"

"Zipper, Scott!"

Scott tugged the slider impatiently, almost ripping it off.

"Why are you so upset about it?" Allison asked shrugging the dress off.

"I'm not sure. That he'd kept it from me?" Scott was overall miserable, uncomfortable in his own skin.

"He's entitled to have a personal life. Like everyone else." Allison stepped closer.

"He has bruises!" Scott waved his hand impatiently, not noticing that he shook his girlfriend's hand off his shoulder.

She smiled cheekily.

"Like the ones I had when you suggested trying—"

"No! Well, not really—" Scott interrupted, letting his unease lead him on. "Derek is a werewolf, Stiles is human, he is fragile."

"So you're saying humans should not be sleeping with werewolves?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" Scott snapped.

"What's your point then?"

"I don't know." He looked lost.

Allison sat on the bed.

"All right. You clearly are frustrated and upset. But there's a pack meeting this Friday. Why don't we sleep on it and then figure out what to do, okay? Maybe you can discuss the situation with both of them then." She got under the blanket, inviting Scott.

"I guess you're right." He said tentatively.

"Finally! Can we please all go to sleep now? I have a practice with Derek at 5 AM tomorrow." Isaac stuck his head from under the blanket on the other side of the bed.

"Sure honey," Allison said nicely, nestling herself by Isaac's side. She smiled contently as Isaac hugged her and nuzzled at her nape. The mattress dipped under Scott's weight as he got into the bed, and Allison hugged him too, placing a kiss at the back of his neck.

"Goodnight guys"

"Goodnight Allison."

And the three little spoons drifted off into sleep.

***

Scott and Allison were the last to arrive at the meeting. Everyone already had taken their places so they had to sit on the floor. Erica handed them two extra pillows. She and Boyd sat on the floor too. Lydia and Jackson sat on one side of the couch and Isaac occupied its' opposite end. Stiles had a whole chair for himself, so had Derek. Only Peter occupied a place at the spiral stairs reading a book. Because any book in the world is more interesting than participating in the teenage gossip of who is sleeping with whom. And the book about Hannibal and the Carthaginians' strategy in the Second Punic War definitely trumps his nephew's love conquests.

Stiles noticed that Scott tried to get his attention, possibly to tell him something. But he pretended he didn't notice. When everyone settled down Derek stood up.

"Today we have one serious matter to discuss. Peter and I came across something disturbing not far from Beacon Hills, and although it is not urgent now, we think all of us should take a look. But first I'd like to settle something else."

Stiles shuffled in his chair impatiently and everyone looked at him. Derek continued.

"Stiles and I have been seeing each other for a while now. And we think it's time for you to know. We're dating. And if anyone has a problem with it—" He turned to Scott. "— I suggest we deal with it right now."

Scott was silent. Stiles looked around to see everybody's reaction, but nothing extraordinary happened. No one seemed surprised. What the hell? Did they think Derek's joking? Stiles stood up, came closer to Derek and wrapped his arm around his waist. Derek placed a long kiss on his temple. They both grinned. Suddenly Erica clapped her hands:

"Cool! Now we can double date!"

"You knew." Derek stated.

"We kinda did." Lydia said apologetically. "Sorry to ruin your moment, dear." She looked at Stiles. "We're so happy for you, guys!"

" _So happy_." Jackson emphasized in his sarcastic manner, and Lydia nudged him with an elbow.

"So all of you already know?!" Stiles exclaimed. He was hoping for a little surprise.

"Well, you kind of gave yourself out." Isaac said. "Jackson and Boyd and I overheard your conversation with Scott."

"Jackson told me." Lydia said.

And Erica just shrugged and looked at Boyd.

"If it's any consolation, you managed to keep it a secret till this week." She added.

"Not really." Isaac said sheepishly.

"WHAT?!" Several people exclaimed simultaneously.

"I had some free time once and came here to see if you're free to train." Isaac said looking at Derek. "You weren't here but the whole place reeked of you and Stiles and— sex." He flushed.

"Oh my god!" Stiles yelled. "Ever heard of calling first?"

"It was just a couple of months ago. I'd dropped my phone into a ditch. Sorry. But I decided that it wasn't my business."

"Good." Derek uttered through clenched teeth. It must have been one of the first times before he decided to extra clean the place.

"Why haven't you told us?" Scott whispered way too loudly. Stiles looked at him.

"Why are you mad that he hasn't told especially you? What is it between you three anyway?"

Everyone turned their heads to Scott and Allison. Even Peter pretended to read twice more enthusiastically. Allison fiddled with the hem of her skirt, Isaac looked at Scott and Scott looked at Stiles.

"It's nothing!" He answered maybe a little too fast.  
Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"By the way I owe you an apology." Scott said changing the subject.

"Oh yeah? You got that right."

Scott stood up and stepped closer to Stiles.

"I'm sorry that I didn't believe you."

"And refused to listen." Stiles added.

"And refused to listen. Truce?"

Stiles nodded. They hugged and then Stiles said.

"I'm sorry for keeping it a secret."

"That's okay, man."

"All right!" Lydia finally said. "Can we please maybe move on to the more important things? Like what you have discovered, Derek. I'd really like to know what kind of thing you would call 'disturbing'."

***.

  
When everyone left Stiles and Derek stayed alone. Stiles was allowed to spend the night so they could afford to spend some time in idleness.

Suddenly Derek sat up, eyes wide.

"Hold on. I just realized. I don't know your first name! We've known each other for all this time, we're in a relationship, and I don't know your real name!"

Stiles was surprised by his sudden outburst but managed to compose himself and say:

"You earn an extra credit for saying that we're in a relationship. I'll never get tired of hearing that. But my name is not a big deal. Only Scott and Lydia know. Of all people. So—"

"So I don't belong to the secret circle?"

"Believe me, it's not worth it. You wouldn't be able to pronounce it, I guarantee, and I go by 'Stiles' anyway."

"I would still like to know. Please?"

"A simple 'please' won't get you there."

Stiles eyed him with a sly little smile.

Derek got the hint. He sat up and flipped Stiles over effortlessly. It was so convenient that Stiles wore PJs and Derek didn't need to fiddle with buckles, zippers, and layers of clothes to just slide his pants down and free his ass. Stiles stuck it out a little preparing for anything to come. Derek’s strong hands squeezed his cheeks tightly, spreading them a little. And then suddenly Derek's stubble brushed between his butt cheeks and his face was buried in the cleft, his wettest and hottest tongue pressed firmly behind Stiles' balls and then gone deeper.

"AAAAhhh..." Stiles gasped and choked on his voice. He squeaked and buried his face in a blanket.  
Derek did wonders down there with his tongue, pressing and licking and pressing again. It felt amazing. Stiles gripped on the sheets, his toes curled, he shivered with all his body and moaned loudly. Derek withdrew, grabbed Stiles under the thighs lifting him up on all fours. Stiles' butt looked pretty enticing, sticking out of his PJ pants as if inviting to be eaten out.

"Touch yourself." Derek said and resumed his work.

Stiles had gotten distracted by Derek's sudden attack on his ass so he didn't notice that his cock had been leaking with precome for a while. Now he was happy to finally have some release. He moaned and felt Derek chuckle. He pushed his butt back receiving an intense dose of earth-shattering mouth-stubble treatment.

"Shiiit I'm gonna come soon." He whined.

"Wait." Derek said and a moment later he felt a wet hot finger entering his over-sensitized hole. Stiles slowed his strokes anticipating Derek's next move.

Then Derek crooked his finger at just the right angle and Stiles cried out and his whole body jerked up so abruptly as if stricken by electroshock. He fell on his stomach, panting heavily.

"Man, I saw new kinds of sparkles! All this for my name?" Stiles finally said.

"No, just for you," Derek said wiping his lips.

Stiles sat up and kissed him messily.

"How can I say no, you're so persuasive." He said. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. Here it goes. Okay. Ready? My first name is Mieczyslaw." Stiles declared and laughed anticipating the reaction.

"Mie.. Chsh.. What?"

"I toooold you! See, now you have this look on your face like 'I can't believe I rimmed you for this'!"

Derek laughed uneasily.

"Are you joking? Is this even a word? Mieshch... Damn! If it was an object, people would be tripping over it. Shit. Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude."

"That's okay. I used to get it all the time. People do trip over it."

"Does your name have a meaning?" Derek asked curiously. No one ever asked Stiles if his name meant anything.

"Actually it does." He said not even trying to hide his joy. "In Slavic languages 'Miecz' means 'sword' and 'slawa' means 'glory'. So Mieczyslaw is the one who brings glory with a sword. Quite epic I dare say."

"Yeah, it's pretty 'glorious'." Derek agreed with a hint of sarcasm. "But doesn't suit you much. Can't imagine you with a sword."

"Hey! No one imagined Neville Longbottom with the sword either!"

"I don't know who that is."

"Are you for real? You can't be serious. Oh my god! Really? I know what we're doing next week! I refuse to date someone who hasn't read the modern classics."

"What's the word for 'book' in Polish?" Derek arched his eyebrow. "Or a 'keyboard'? Because anything nerd-related suits you more as a weapon of choice."

"I'll remember that when you need to decipher an ancient Icelandic manuscript next time."

"Say your name again?"

"Mieczyslaw."

"At least now I understand why you prefer 'Stiles'."

Stiles lowered his eyes, his smile faded and face turned serious. He paused.

"Actually it's not the only reason." He said almost whispering. "My mom used to call me that."

He lay on the back closing his eyes and a moment later he felt Derek's warm hand on his chest, right above his heart, as if he instinctively knew where to touch him to take the sorrow away. Perhaps he did, his mother was gone too.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Stiles asked keeping his eyes shut. But somehow he knew that Derek was gazing at him.

"Of course."

Stiles was silent for a long time. Derek let him collect himself. He listened to his heartbeat feeling it under his palm. It was steady but a little too strong, so there could have been something very personal he was about to share. Finally, Stiles spoke.

"My mom constantly worried about me. I was a fidgety and overly curious kid. Not much has changed as you can see.

His eyelids trembled.

"I know it's probably a thing to say but I sometimes think that it's good that she can't see me being involved in all this supernatural havoc, endangering my life every minute. I think she would have died of grief if something happened to me, and it's good that she doesn't get to because she is already dead." He swallowed heavily not daring to open his eyes as if being protected by the darkness behind them.

"Do you think it's horrible? It's like I'm happy that she's gone."

He looked at Derek uneasily, his eyes were filled with tears, and Derek's throat felt tight.

"No, of course not! This shows how much you love her."

Derek leaned in and pulled Stiles closer, wrapping his arms around him, protecting him from the dark thoughts. The boy nuzzled into his throat and Derek sensed his heartbeat evening out.

"I promise I'll do everything to keep you safe. I cannot let your mother be upset." Derek said and kissed him on the forehead.

"I know. You're my big-snuggly-werewolf-guarding-angel." Stiles pressed his lips to Derek's jugular and wrapped his leg around him so not an inch of their bodies would be left untouched by one another.

"I wonder what that creature would look like. Would it have white wings? Would they have feathers or fur?"

"Oh my god." Derek rolled his eyes.

They both laughed.

"You want a secret for a secret?" Derek said suddenly. "Because I'd really like to tell you something."

"Sure. Go on."

"Remember our first time, I said I fucked guys sometimes—"

"Yeah." Stiles tensed up. He thought about it occasionally: whom could Derek get involved with? Was he (or them) from Beacon Hills? Had he met any of them? When he felt the most anxious he even suspected Isaac or Jackson or Boyd, and these thoughts drove him crazy.

"I lied." Derek said and the whole world turned upside down. "You were the first guy I ever did it with."

Stiles jerked up, and looked at Derek, stunned.

"Then why did you—"

"I got nervous. I blabbed the first thing that came to my mind. I'm not proud of it."

Stiles rubbed his cheeks. Suddenly he felt light and free, and happy.

"Soooo—" He said slyly. "I was sort of— Your first?"

"Sort of, yeah." Derek returned the sly smile.

"And you'd liked me so much that you didn't do it with anyone else since then?"

"Of course I didn't!" Derek said, a little offended.

Stiles could jump up to the sky and back. Derek was his first! He was Derek's first! (nevermind the girls, he was the first guy). He felt so proud and unique and worthy. Derek chose him. Woah, that was something to set his ego to the Moon.

Stiles straddled Derek and lowered his face until their noses almost touched.

"I don't think it's possible for me to like you more right now."

They kissed until their faces got tired. Then Derek asked:

"By the way, we've got all day tomorrow, just for ourselves. Have you made any plans?"

Stiles sat up and bounced on the bed again.

"How about sleeping in till noon? Then a bookstore: I'm so buying you all the Harry Potter books! Then we can eat somewhere out for a change. There's a new ice cream place, we can take a look. And we also have to be at my place by 7. For the dinner, remember?"

"How can I forget? I was preparing for anything with your dad but it went incredibly smooth."

"Tell me about it. I almost had like ten heart attacks that morning. So, what do you think about tomorrow?"

"Sounds nice. But I'm still running with the pack at 5 AM. We do it every day at any weather. It's mandatory."

"Freaks. All right. But you're coming back to me afterward. And we're sleeping till noon."

"Sounds like a challenge. What if we wake up earlier?"

"I hope not. I expect you to wear me out tonight. To wear me out so hard, I wouldn't be able to get myself out of the bed tomorrow exactly till noon."

Stiles tackled Derek on the back and climbed on top of him, tugging his Henley off.

Derek chuckled.

"This sounds really tempting but I have a suggestion too."

_Let's hope not another "no sex" thing._

"How about we do it nice and slow, and gentle?"

Stiles looked at Derek wide-eyed.

"Because of Scott?"

Derek winced.

"Because I want to."

Stiles frowned, not convinced. Derek flipped them over. He slipped his hand under Stiles' shirt and started petting his belly.

"Tonight is sort of our first night as an official couple. Think of it as my attempt to celebrate this occasion."

"So you want it to be like our—" He didn't dare to say 'wedding night' although it was the first thing that came to his mind. Instead, he sang in a high-pitched voice. "Like we're virgins. Touched for the very first ti-ime?"

Derek laughed burying his face in Stiles' chest.

"All right, Derek," Stiles giggled. "Make love to me." He whispered, and his cheeks flushed pink.

Derek peeled Stiles clothes off slowly as if he was unwrapping a present. He brushed his lips against Stiles' lips, the soft skin of his face, and his eyelids; licked the curve of his ear with a tip of his tongue and went down the side of his neck. His werewolf essence made him rumble softly when he pressed his nose to Stiles' bare throat. Stiles gasped. He lay with his eyes closed, succumbing to Derek's subtle caress.

They really gave it as much time as they could. That's what they had now in plenty — time. No need to rush things. They felt themselves rich beyond measure having all the time to enjoy the presence of one another, to get reacquainted, to explore and experiment. They gazed into each other's eyes not because they needed to, but because they wanted to imprint themselves into each other's mind. They could afford a luxury of not getting into each other's pants right away. The idea of keeping themselves on the verge of combustion appeared to be enticing in its' own way. As they kissed and licked and stroked their way across each other's bodies, the pleasure was building up, getting thicker under the skin. The slow burn needed some getting used to and it appeared to be much harder than they thought. But it was so worth it. When Derek finally entered Stiles' body, they both had to stop for several seconds just not to come right away.

It took Derek tremendous effort to move slowly and keep both his human and his werewolf sides on the edge of explosion. He knew he wouldn't last as long as he usually did. But every precious second of it was to be savored in his memory for ages. He groaned and winced trying to make it last.

Stiles lay on his back looking up at his lover, who appeared to be capable of so much tenderness and care, Stiles could never imagine. His heart was about to burst because of all the feelings that stirred inside. Some of it found its way out through Stiles' voice, and he moaned softly melting into a hot pool of feelings, emotions, and sensations on the verge of an outburst.

"I feel so good when you're inside me. I feel whole," Stiles whispered.

He cupped Derek's face and looked down to see how their bodies were merging together. The dim light added to the atmosphere accentuating every curve. Derek moved slowly, letting the pleasure to rise to the peak. Stiles was panting, his lips were shiny red, long lashes trembled and his flushed cheeks resembled the sides of a ripe peach.

Derek wanted to ravish this innocent beauty. To bite and scratch, lick and thrust into it. He knew Stiles would have liked it, as he always did. But tonight was all about tenderness and a whole new world was unraveling around them. Time stretched into one endless "here and now", and Derek could feel every subtle move times longer, hear every tone of every heartbeat and every breath. Like they lived through this everlasting moment, united into one body, sharing this experience for eternity. It was just sex, but at the same time, it felt like something extraordinary, as if they'd found a secret of the Universe no one else in the whole world could ever comprehend.

Derek kissed Stiles tenderly on his peachy cheek and then on his upturned nose he liked so much, and his closed eyelids. And Stiles pulled his face closer and clashed his mouth to Derek's. The boy gripped his neck tightly holding onto him like a drowning man and kissing him as if his life depended on it. Derek trusted his hips forward and Stiles gasped breaking the kiss. He even sobbed a little, clutching his fists in Derek's hair, and Derek was about to pull back, afraid he'd hurt his boy and broke the spell. But Stiles wrapped his legs around him, pushing his heel into Derek's butt cheek, making him bury his dick inside to the root. Stiles moaned and arched his back.

"Stay." He whispered. "I want you to stay inside me forever."

He pulled Derek closer pasting every inch of their bodies together but Derek still let some weight on his elbows so Stiles could breathe under him. He too wanted to stay forever like this. He wished he could melt himself inside Stiles so they'd become one. But the primal part of his body urged him to move. To thrust, to come. He restrained himself for a few longest moments and then grunted.

"Stiles, please."

Stiles was on the edge too, so he let Derek move releasing him from the grip of his legs. Derek groaned and only after three or four thrusts shuddered having the strongest orgasm ever. It flooded him like a stream, burned him out like wildfire. His eyes flashed red and fangs dropped, claws ripped through the skin of his palms. Through his red-fogged vision, he could see Stiles gasping and throwing his head back, baring his throat. At this sight, another wave of pleasure washed over him. Blood pulsed in his ears but he still could hear:

"Oh, god, I love you!"

***

That night they slept peacefully knowing that there was no need to wake up to get Stiles home. No need to throw the sheets out in the morning. No need to hide and lie. No need to pretend and avoid each other on purpose. They were together and no outer force could ever change that.

Stiles was woken up by cold. The blanket was taken by Derek, who'd wrapped himself up like he was getting ready to become a butterfly. Stiles expected that since he was sleeping with a furnace-hot werewolf, blanket-stealing would certainly be out of the question. But here they were. The clock showed 8 AM and Stiles made a mental note that Derek had managed to leave for his run and come back without waking him up. He really didn't want to leave the bed and didn't want to sleep either, providing he'd be freezing to death. For some foolish selflessness, he didn't even think about waking Derek up and ask him for the blanket. His boyfriend Derek. His lover Derek. And more importantly, the man he could officially call "my [freakishly handsome] boyfriend" and "my [steaming hot] lover". And to whom, at the peak of mutual passion, he'd said "I love you" just a few hours ago. And didn't get any reply. Maybe it wasn't a good idea. Perhaps the whole thing between them was a bad idea.

He went to the bathroom, feeling his body sore, tired and sleepy. So much for being 17.

Hot shower poured some life into him. After that, he pulled his pants and a t-shirt on. He eyed himself in the mirror. What should he do? Leave quietly? Stay and wait for Derek to wake up? Then what? Awkward glances? Breakfast? Or maybe Derek would not want him there but be too polite to tell him that? He found himself a little lost by the novelty of the situation and the uncertainty of this night's events.

Might as well buy some time and brush his teeth he thought. Stiles had forgotten to take his toothbrush. He also didn't want to use Derek's: his recently-acquired boyfriend was scrupulous about neatness, what if he doesn’t like it? So he just squeezed out some toothpaste on his index finger and went on with it.

"Hey." Derek's voice startled him as the man entered the bathroom in his Superman underwear.

"Hey," Stiles replied with a mouth full of bubbling toothpaste. He looked at Derek through the mirror trying to catch his mood. Grumpy? Sleepy? Awkward? Wants him to leave?  
Derek took a new toothbrush out of the cupboard. A red one with silver sparkles. Handing it to Stiles he looked very content.

"Here. Maybe this one will do a better job. Unless you like doing it with your finger."

He stepped closer and pecked Stiles on the ear, shortly inhaling his scent.

Then they brushed their teeth together in silence, standing side by side, looking at each other through the mirror. Well, Derek was looking, while Stiles lowered his eyes staring into the sink.

When they finished and Stiles was about to flee the bathroom, Derek put his arm around his waist. He still looked at Stiles' reflection attentively.

"Why are you grumpy? That's my thing."

"No reason. I mean I'm not grumpy. Just sleepy."

_Liar._

"Is it about the blanket?" Derek lifted an eyebrow.

"It's not about the stupid blanket!" Stiles snapped.

"But it is about something." Derek gave it a thought.

"We came out. The sex was great. You slept over. You're not mad about the blanket." He paused, then narrowed his eyes at Stiles'. "Is it about what you said and I didn't?"

Stiles gaped at him.

"It takes me less and less time to riddle the puzzle of Stiles. I guess we're becoming a real couple then." Derek said contentedly. He pulled Stiles closer and held him tight against his chest.

For a moment they stood still, waiting for one another to break the silence. Finally, Derek breathed out:

"Me too."

The words scattered inside Stiles' mind and sunk all the way down stirring a swirl of feelings inside.

"What?" He whispered.

"What you said last night. Me. Too." Derek accentuated every word.

Stiles' throat tightened. He shut his eyes, so the world around would disappear, and hid his face in the hollow of Derek's throat. He touched the thin skin with his lips and whispered:

"Me too."

And Derek kissed him on the temple.

THE END

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> All the reviews are welcome, so please leave a comment if you have anything to say.
> 
> If you liked it, stay tuned for the "Taking Chances Series'" update!


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